History of Us: Walking Ghosts
by ajremix
Summary: History of Us Arc, post Mega Man 8, following Among Friends. In the wake of tragedy, everything falls in a downward spiral, uncontrolable, unstoppable. Wily, Robot Masters, Zero
1. First: Desperation

Walking Ghosts First: Desperation  
  
by Lady Virgo  
  
"When the end of the  
line clings  
to your neck.  
It comes."  
  
///  
  
The halls of Skull Fortress were eerily lifeless, like it had never been before. Not when the first group of Robot Masters had just arrived, not even when the Stardroids were running havoc in the corridors. But suddenly, they were faced with a subject both familiar yet strangely alien to them: Mortality.  
They were robots. They weren't living, they weren't biological creatures. How could they? They were creations that didn't know the necessities of sleep and nourishment and breathing the way an organic being did. And yet they had to face the undeniable fact. Crash was dead. And he wasn't going to come back.  
There were few that were actually close to him, and those that were adored him. He was the little brother people would actually liked, someone that looked up to everyone and always did their best and never tried to be a burden. They all took it hard.  
Quick was sitting at his usual seat in the chow hall, doing the same thing he'd been doing for the passed few days now, just sitting there, looking at the empty space of the seat across from him, the seat Crash always sat in. And he sighed, trying to keep the rolling void from engulfing him.  
Metal sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, watching as he was barely acknowledged. "Quick." He said quietly. "Quick, how're you holding up?"  
"Terrible." His voice was thin. He blamed himself, because he wasn't out taking care of business that he shouldn't have just left out in the open, out for Crash to feel he should deal with it. He had come out of his room initially because he knew there was something horribly wrong with how Crash last left. And he came out to prove himself wrong, only to find out that he wasn't. He spent that day locked in Crash's room, crying by the body and refusing anyone else trying to see him until he had no more tears to spend. They were closer than brothers, closer than anyone else in the fortress. Metal, to be completely honest, was surprised that Quick hadn't killed himself then.  
Which was part of why he was here at the moment. "You know," he started lamely, "Ring isn't doing too hot, either." His eyes flickered to him quickly, "He's blaming himself, too." Quick's sullen disposition lately sent sickening shivers up Metal's spine. "Because he yelled at Crash just before his. his death, because he treated him so badly." He gave the younger bioroid an one-armed hug. "He's afraid that you'll hate him now. Please, Quick, talk to him. This was all because he didn't understand. Talk to him, make him understand." He laid his head on Quick's shoulder. "I can't lose anyone else I care about, I don't know what I'd do with myself."  
There was silence on both their parts and Metal, for a moment, was afraid that Quick would again take to hiding. But instead, a hand rested on his own and he looked up to Quick sadly smiling face, lines around his eyes, weary and sunken, made him appear so much older than he should have.  
"I'll do what I can, Metal."  
  
///  
  
"Wily-sama, you called for us?"  
The two exchanged glances, waiting patiently for an answer that was not forthcoming.  
"Wily-sama?"  
A great length of nothing passed and Pharaoh trembled. Then took a step forward.  
"What are you /doing/?" Magnet hissed, grabbing his arm. But the Russian made robot shook out of his hold and crept silently to the doctor's chair. There were very few times that Wily would face those that talked to him, becoming a rarer occurrence as time progressed. Pharaoh's footfalls were muffled in the great space of the room, but if the old man hadn't heard them earlier, it was doubtful he'd hear now.  
He took confidence that Wily was at least still alive from the clacking of long nailed fingers on keyboard, the computer screen flickering in the darkness as it took in the information tapped into it. Half daring to put a hand on the wide backed chair, but thought better of it and sidestepped to look at the man that sat there.  
Calculations and plans were on the screen and Pharaoh recognized some of the variables from the Stardroids' brief stay, but the form was of one he had never seen before. He turned to look at the human that he pledged his loyalty to and had to clamp down an audible shock of breath. In all recent memories, no had really seen their creator (or re-programmer) for months, possibly even going on a year by now. It was just as well because Wily was almost beyond recognition, was almost beyond the point of being human. His skin had withered, wrinkled and hanging from bony arms, his hands like cracked claws stabbing incessantly at the keys. He had the face of a cadaver, eyes dark like bruises set deep in a fragile skull. What little white hair he had on his head was coarse, thin, limp, wisps of strangled cotton that seemed unwashed. The room had been, on several occasions, been liken to a crypt by many bioroids that had gone to his call. The air oppressive and stagnant and smelt like dead wisteria and moist earth and rotting flesh, stench of the man had to have been the source of it, the most foul thing Pharaoh had ever experienced.  
So distracted by the torturous odor he hadn't realized that the man was staring at him. The fact that such a being could still move and be considered 'alive' defied all process of logic. But for all the life that the body seemed to have lost, those sharp, dark eyes burned with excess.  
"Mind your place!" The old man snapped, his very being seemed to expand for a moment, filling the room, forcing Pharaoh back in fear of his very life.  
"I-My apologize, Wily-sama!" He stammered, stumbling back and trying to bow at the same time.  
Wily glared at him, not giving Magnet a look as the robot shook his head, still kneeling on the ground. Turning back to the computer he said gravely, "Leave me be."  
"But, Wily-sama-"  
"Silence!" Pharaoh flinched. "I will not be disturbed! Now leave! Both of you!"  
Quickly the two bowed and retreated out the door, out of the wing designated for Wily's use only. Once safely back in the halls no longer prowled by bored, rowdy Robot Masters, Magnet glared at Pharaoh from the corner of his eye. "Nice going."  
"Shut up."  
  
///  
  
Very few things bothered Ring to the point of distraction. Or deep depression. But when ones life suddenly was broken into scores of glass shards that mocked them, despised them, shunned them, one had plenty of things to be depressed about. Having one of his best friends die, most likely because of Ring's harsh temper and stubborn hate, and having his other best friend possible hate him for the rest of existence made about 90% of his 'my life is crap' factor. The other was the fact that, because of all the trouble he had caused, he was no longer allowed into the medbay. Not that being a medical bot was something he had enjoyed doing day in and day out, but at times it was a nice haven from the merciless grind of the fortress. The work would take his mind off his problems, clear his head, occasionally giving him a better perspective. And with that one vise forcefully taken away from him, Ring had no choice but to face the consequences of his jealousy.  
And he was facing it by attempting to get drunk in his room.  
There was a hesitant knock on the door which he made no attempt to answer. Nor did he make an attempt to hide the fact that he was in the room as he let out a vodka laced belch. His visitor knocked again and he took a swig. Then they buzzed.  
"Ring?" Came a voice muffled by the thick metal. "Ring, open up." The Russian robot sat up straight, suddenly feeling very sober indeed. He knew that voice anywhere, haunting his dreams and thoughts and floating underneath his door. But, the inebriated lanes in his mind slurred, he hates you. You killed his brother. It's your fault, he's here just so he can yell at you, tear your heart in his bloody hands and spit in your humiliated face.  
He shrank at the morbidity of his thoughts.  
"Ring, please. I. I want to talk to you." To him, Quick's voice was more potent than any siren's and he nearly leapt at the door, partly empty bottle clanking dangerously against the wall when his body realized it really had no idea what it was doing.  
Cautiously he slid the door open slightly, pressing half his face against the opening. "Qu-Quick.?" His tongue stumbled slightly, unused in the passed few days. Quick's worried face peered at him, blurry and uncertain.  
"Ring, are you okay?"  
"'M fine."  
"You look terrible." He grabbed the edge of the door. "Let me in." He started to push it open but Ring stopped him.  
"No!" They both paused. "I, uh, I mean, don't. Please." Ring cleared his throat. "I.. I'm sorry."  
"Don't be sorry."  
"No, I'm sorry." He shook his head, alcohol swishing in his brain. "It's my fault. Because I was so harsh to Crash, because I didn't considered your feelings, because I was. I was just so stupid. I was so selfish." His knees were getting weaker as he began losing control of his voice, babbling and losing awareness. "This is all my fault. I didn't want you to get hurt, Shadow just. he just made me so angry the way he'd walk all over you! And you wouldn't do anything but cry and take it all silently and I couldn't stand it. I wanted him away from you, I wanted to make you happy but he made you happy but I didn't see that because all I saw was him being an ass and I couldn't understand why you liked him and I wanted him gone," Ring's forehead was braced against the door, his words running together as he gasped, "and Crash tried to stop me because he understood. But I wouldn't listen. he tried to stop me but I wouldn't listen. And it's my fault that you locked yourself away and it's my fault that Crash killed himself and it's my fault that everyone's different and. and it's all just my fault."  
He didn't know at what part he had fallen to the ground, or when it was that Quick had opened the door, sitting next to him, holding him. The bottle had dropped out of his numb fingers, the scentless vodka had spilled over the floor, dripping out of the long-necked bottle. Ring babbled on, crying and shivering and clutching Quick because he was the only one left that he had to turn to. And Quick just sat there, making soothing as he ran trembling fingers through Ring's unkempt hair.  
"It's okay, Ring. It's okay." He muttered softly. "I don't hate you, I don't blame you. No one does." He held Ring as tight as his shaking arms would let, hiding tears in his hair. "I don't want to lose anyone else. Not you, not anyone. Please don't leave me, too.."  
  
///  
  
It was cold in the lab, to reduce the chance of an electric shock that could wipe all his hard work from the countless disks and chips that he had spread out on the tables. The culmination of his life's work. He wouldn't dare anything happening to them. Dr. Wily rubbed his hands. It was /supposed/ to be cold in here, but he couldn't feel it anymore, his hands numb to everything but the feel of machinery molding under his brittle fingertips. His nails and skin were permanently stained with flecks of blood, small scars around his knuckles and where the meat of his fingers once were when weariness had caught up with him more than once.  
His breathing labored hard, puffing out wisps of creamy white. The crackling wires slowly dulled, pulsing and pumping as information shot out of one of the computers to the neuronet it was connected to. The values on the computer rose and fell in stable perimeters and he couldn't help the little, hysterical giggle that passed through his thin and withered lips. Teeth rotten and gray and chipped from neglect shone eerily as he jumped once, then hurried to the computer by the body.  
The thin line of his eyebrows came down to displeased points. Something was wrong with the transfer. They were supposed to be showing a rise in the EPU, but nothing appeared to be happening. Frowning, Wily typed quickly, the nimbleness his fingers had injected into their very marrow coming to life as they shook, redirecting the flow of information. There, he grunted happily to himself, the EPU began to register.  
He watched the patterns on the electron monitor with glee, practically shaking with giddiness as the values rose and fell, slowly stabilizing. He was very nearly on the verge of singing. Or screaming with joy. Hands clenched and held high into the air, he let out a little hoot of triumph. He had it this time. He would /win/ this time. This time, the world would recognize his power, his plan, and they would follow like the docile lambs they were created to be. And no one, not Thomas, not that annoyance Rock or that bastard child Blues could take this away from him. He had overcome.  
"My last, my final." He said with suppressed mirth, smile turning maniacal as trembling fingers stroked the computer screen. "You are my heir, the one that shall inherit the earth. Lead my children into the future that I have set out for you," his voice became strained and high, mind going far beyond the reaches of any human, "for from the ashes of death comes the shadow of the phoenix!" He spun around in the eerie lighting, lab coat billowing about him like a mighty robe fit for the king of man.  
And as the era crumbles, the first to fall apart is the throne.  
"My beautiful creation," Wily cackled, anxious claws running through the long strands of blonde. "Soon you shall awaken. Soon you can fulfill my lifelong dream. Pick up where the others had failed. Complete the task no one else could, no matter the cost." He suddenly grew sober, old eyes squinting in their liver-spotted skull. "I will not have spent my life in vain. I will have accomplished my task and I will make my name emblazoned in history with you. My final project, my dear..." In a fatherly manner, denoting all the time and expense spent on it, Wily bent forward and kissed its forehead. 


	2. Second: Tensions

Walking Ghosts Second: Tensions  
  
by Lady Virgo  
  
"The walls within the  
mind crumbles  
falling at your feet  
Suddenly."  
  
///  
  
Perhaps he should have felt somewhat odd, being pressed against the wall by a much smaller body. A body that held a great deal of strength and more than enough courage to use it to his advantage. But he still had the height advantage and he was, by no means, weak on his own. Surely, if he tried, he could've gotten away. He could've done something to stop this. But he didn't. It seemed.. pointless, somehow.  
You had gone through this for so long, his mind cooed coldly, why should you start resisting now? Why didn't you start then? Why do you just allow this to happen at all?  
Standing there, he really had no idea.  
Lips played at his collar, pulling at the zipper on his shirt as hands simultaneously slipped under his jacket. He was being unresponsive again, but he had gotten used to it long ago. They both have.  
But he still pressed, he still gave into the urge to touch and taste and possess. "Freeze.." he hissed into the pale column of his bared neck.  
And as the first gentle stroke of Snake's long fang brushed across his skin, Freeze leaned his head back and closed his eyes. And just let it happen.  
  
///  
  
"Slash is on a rampage again." Skull commented idly. "Snake hanging over Freeze again?"  
"Nah. Snake's gone into hiding by now."  
"Hm."  
Flash looked over at the other Enforcers before turning back to his Solitaire. "One of these days he's gonna get caught."  
"He knows."  
"And it's not going to be pretty."  
Skull snorted. "Trust me, he knows."  
"That's what we're here for." Pharaoh said suddenly, bringing attention that- yes, indeed -he was still there. "No undue harm will to a Robot Master, at the hands of another." He stood quietly, leaving a bare pool of drink in his glass. "Or because of another." And just as silently, he walked out.  
His attitude recently had made the other Enforcers wary. So quiet and sullen. It was almost surprising how hard- for someone that didn't even know the guy -he took Crash's death. It shook their attention and /forced/ them to realize how seriously Pharaoh took his job.  
And because he allowed Ring and Shadow to continue their fights..  
Because he didn't take any notice of how it affected their friends..  
Pharaoh stood outside of Ring's door, knowing how broken up his brother was. And though he knew it wasn't entirely Ring's fault, he couldn't find anywhere else to place that blame, all except for the small bit he could- /should/ -shoulder. And all he could say at that moment would just add to the hurt.  
Because even though he had warned them, even though he did all he believed he could, he still let them at it.  
Pharaoh clenched his hands.  
Maybe he was to blame..  
He raised his hand to knock on the door, but then slowly lowered it.  
Rifts, in time, grow larger. And their was no exception. And as much as he did care for his brother, he had no resources to bridge the gap they had neglected for so long.  
Turning on his heel, Pharaoh quietly left down the hall, leaving no evidence that he was ever there.  
  
///  
  
"That's odd."  
"What?"  
"We're getting some strange readings."  
"Strange how?"  
"I'm not sure. Like..interference, almost. Like something's blocking the scanners but it's so subtle it's hard to tell."  
"Huh. Lemme see."  
Lightly, fingers danced perfectly over the keys.  
"Should we do something?"  
A timed sway of a head.  
"Nah. Magma Dragoon can't do anything."  
  
///  
  
So, in hindsight, maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Well of course it was, what did he expect? That he would be grateful? That he would believe him? That everything would magically come back together and the long awaited make-up sex would begin?  
Who was he trying to fool here?  
Himself, apparently.  
He stole into Skull Fortress as easily as the other countless times he'd done so. He couldn't believe it had taken him this long to realize what exactly it was that Dr. Wily was planning. The half-assed robots of the 8th army was a dead give-away that he was preoccupied with something else and Blues scoured all the data he had stolen and listened obsessively into the fortress. But no one seemed to know anything. It was only when someone had referenced to the Stradroids that it clicked.  
That robot!  
Blues had cursed himself creatively in nine different languages for forgetting. Forgiving that he had left Dr. Light to take care of it (scratch that- he knew better than to let Light know and simply leave it at that) but there was something about it that didn't like at all.  
Especially when the Enforcers talked about 'preparing Forte'.  
He went through the information he had taken regarding the Stardroids and that robot hidden in Wily's fortress. He had figured out that merging one complete mind with even a partial one saved months of time that Wily really didn't have at all. And, using certain sequences, one could negate personality parts they didn't want or enhance those that they did without having to wade through a head full of chemicals and miles of information.  
Going through the data he realized Dr. Wily was planning on merging Forte with this beast. And once they merged..  
Forte would, technically, no longer exist.  
Blues couldn't allow that. Not with his beliefs, not with his mission and, definitely, not in his heart. Because, as absurd as it may seem, Blues still held Forte dearest of all and it frightened him more than anything those two humans could ever come up.  
So he had it planned out in his mind. He'd find Forte, explain the situation to him, make him understand what was going to happen and then they'd both leave together and..and..  
Well, he didn't plan that far.  
Because, as he feared, he wasn't making much headway on Step 3.  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Forte said for the umpteenth time. He looked, for the life of Blues, as if he didn't believe anything he was being told. And not only that, he didn't seem to care.  
"Look," the older bioroid said, "I'm sure you remember the Stardroids."  
Forte rolled his eyes. "We've already been to that part."  
"But you remember."  
"/Yes/." Forte hissed. This was becoming a waste of time. He really hated wasting time.  
"Then you remember what happened to the Robot Masters that were used for it."  
"Yeah, so what?"  
So what?? Blues felt ready to shake him till he understood. "So, what happened?"  
Forte raised an eyebrow at him. But, after a length, decided to humor him. "They were out of commission." That was an understatement and he knew it, but refused to say what Blues wanted him to say.  
"They were dead." The other quickly corrected. "Everything that made them 'them' was taken away. Merged until they were nothing like themselves, they, as everyone knew them, were gone." He clenched his hands, quelling the urge to put them on Forte's shoulders. "And that's what's going to happen to you."  
"But they're still here."  
"Backups."  
"And there's a backup of me, too, I'm sure."  
"Forte," Blues said harshly, "Wily's almost dead. He knows this. That's why he's been working so feverishly on that robot."  
"He had time to create the 8th army."  
"They were never brought back. Neither was Crash."  
"Crash would've had to have been rebuilt."  
"So were many of the Robot Masters after Rock got through with them. Or each other."  
Forte scowled. It wasn't that the black crested robot didn't want to believe that Wily waould do something as stupid as that. He just wouldn't believe Blues on principle. And, just like anyone else, he was technically immortal. What fear had he for dying? After all, he wasn't an emotional weakling like that drill bomber.  
So he growled low in his throat and said, "What's it matter to you? Old man?"  
Something about that just set him off and suddenly Blues didn't have control over anything. He held Forte tight in his hands, teeth bared like an animal. He didn't know if he was desperate or frustrated or angry.  
"Because he's going to use you!"  
"Since when do you care?"  
"I do! I always have!"  
Forte ruthlessly broke out of the hold. "That's why you left me for your precious /Rock/, huh?"  
"Forte-!" He bit his tongue to keep from cursing. "This isn't the time to be jealous."  
"You're right on that. I was jealous a long time ago." His gold eyes were narrow beams. "It's over, just like you trying to act the hero with me. I'm not some bitch-in-distress that'll jump into your arms on a moments notice. We're through. We've been through."  
"Forte-"  
"Get the fuck out of here. I see you again after the next five seconds I'll blow your fucking head off."  
Blues opened his mouth to say something but the look in Forte's harsh stare grabbed him and /forced/ him to realize it was, indeed, over. He had screwed everything up in that one day and, unlike Shadow, he would never get another chance.  
Truly the precise problem with foresight, as Terra had once explained, was that it was /not/ hindsight..  
  
///  
  
"Where's Snake?"  
The other immediately fell silent and fidgeted under Pharaoh's gaze.  
"..Well?" He prompted.  
"He-" Flash cut himself off, flinching a bit as he directed attention to himself. "We don't know."  
"What do you mean 'you don't know'?"  
"We haven't see him."  
Pharaoh narrowed his eyes. "I told you to watch him."  
"We know, but-"  
"You know how attached he was to Freeze."  
"Well, yeah-"  
He slammed a hand against the bar top. "And if he decides to follow Crash's lead? And you'll just allow that?" They shrank under the volume of his voice. "Go and find him! NOW!" They scrambled over each other as they hurried out.  
All except for Flash.  
"What?" The Russian-made bot growled, half turning away.  
"Boss? How.. How's Magnet dong? He's okay, right? He's not.." He trailed as Pharaoh's hands slowly clenched.  
"He's alive." Came the quiet reply. His anger, Flash understood, was just a farce to hide the fear and strain he's been holding on to. "But- " Pharaoh voice caught slightly, as if it were sore. "The reaction from the explosion reversed the polarity of his core."  
"So..what? He can't use his power?"  
He turned away fully, to keep any cracks of emotion from being seen. "..he's being crushed by his own power." He said finally.  
Flash took an unconscious step back. So that's why..that's why he's so worried about Snake. Crash and Freeze, two of the many he was held responsible for were dead, Magnet slowly dying. If anyone else dies..Flash shook his head slightly. Pharaoh always took responsibility even for things he didn't have to, for the things he couldn't control, trying to protect everyone from things he couldn't stop. Flash vowed he'd never have to deal with that pain again.  
"Don't worry about Snake, Boss. We'll take care of him." For everything the Boss has done for me, for all of us, Flash decided, this is the least I can do.  
  
///  
  
"Stupid old coot." He grumbled, arms crossed. "The hell he want me for now?" Taking a deep breath, he called out into the large room. "I'm here! Get it over with already!"  
His voice echoed for a few breaths and he started growling obscenities to himself again. He huffed, minutes spanning and crossing as he waited, scuffling at the tarnished floor and glaring at the walls around him. He /really/ hated wasting time.  
It took a while for it to register, several deep breaths to realize the faint odor in the air. It struck a cold chord inside him and he looked around, trying to find the source.  
He wasn't stupid. He knew how insane the man was, to what lengths he would go. But still, even as he ceased to acknowledge the way the floor flew into his dimming view, he refused to believe that he could die.  
  
///  
  
It took a lot of guts for him to finally go and still he had no idea what he was going to do. But, Quick told himself, screwing up his courage as best he could, he was here now so he might as well get it over with.  
He held up a hand and with only slight hesitance, knocked on the door. There was silence, though he didn't think there would be anything else coming from Shadow's room. After a long while he knocked again and cleared his throat. "Shadow?" Quick asked quietly, then again a little louder.  
When there was no sign of movement inside, Quick grew a little worried. He went to the control panel by the door, punching in the access code- he knew he wasn't suppose to know it, but when you have hacker virtuoso buddies bragging about having the codes to everyone's rooms, one couldn't help but be curious as to what some of those codes were. Shadow hadn't changed it from the one Dr. Wily had given him, Quick thought to himself, it was just so obvious, he probably would've guessed it on his own.  
"Shadow," he said, just loud enough to be heard through the door, "I'm coming in." Slowly he slid the door open, half afraid of what might happen once it was completely out of the way.  
But, to his surprise, the room was empty. "That's odd.." Quick said to himself. "The locator said he was here.." He stepped into the room, looking around. It hadn't look like it was lived in at all. Nothing was moved, nothing was added and a fine layer of dust settled over everything, even the bed. But, on the desktop that protruded from the wall sat a piece of paper. Somewhat nervous, he went over and picked it up.  
On top of it sat two chips that Quick recognized in an instant: the locator and the choke chip.  
He let out a breath, stance drooping. "Not again.." He picked up the paper, reading it:  
'I'm sorry that I, once again, do not have the courage to tell you this in person. And I'm sorry for what I had help driven Crash to do (here Quick had to restrain himself from shaking his head and telling the paper it wasn't its fault). But I'm afraid I don't have much time to explain, nor do you have much time to understand. Please, if you hold my opinion of any value, you will listen to me now. We are all in great danger in the fortress. Don't wonder how I know, don't wonder what sort of danger it is. Just know that you are not safe, no one is. Tell everyone you believe would trust you, leave the fortress now. I wish I could have stayed to make sure you- at least -left, but I can't.  
'Please, believe me. If I were to lose you, everything I've ever done and must do will be rendered meaningless. As will I.  
'I (a word was scribbled out in a dark blotch) wish you well.  
'Shadow'  
  
///  
  
Coils were stacked haphazardly around the floor, crisscrossing in only a pattern Wily understood. The heavy lines gleamed dully and thrummed like metallic panthers, lying in wait for the kill under an unforgiving sun. The prey they stalked was stretched out on the lab table, unclad and waiting for the slaughter, waiting for the butcher to take what he wanted and through the scraps to whatever vulture was creeping in the wings.  
Forte shivered a bit, the aftereffects of the drug still making it difficult for him to think. So instead, he looked in the direction his head lay, where- it had to have been purposeful -he stayed aware by studying the unfamiliar face before him. The creature, he noticed dully, was similarly propped against a vertical table, held securely by straps and had to be at least- if not over -six feet in height. And, though well muscled, was still leaning towards lanky. Long blonde hair was unbound, curtaining down his back, a few cusps over his shoulders, long bangs partially obscuring his closed eyes. The things saving this new robot from utter femininity by his long hair and smooth face was an undeniably male body and the sharp cut of his chin and cheeks.  
Countless measures of time passed before the old doctor passed in his view. He knew, all along, that Wily was there, but couldn't seem to remember and, as he tried to croak out words, he had forgotten how to talk.  
However, Dr. Wily appeared to have seen his attempts to move and turned to look at him, tiny eyes smoldering, moving his body on pure adrenaline. Once that burned, Forte figured the old man would finally be forced to accept his fate and die. He wondered idly what would happen to the Robot Masters once that happened, what would become of this new one.  
Then, to his surprise- as slow as it was growing -the human smiled at him, not even attempting to cloak the cruel intentions behind it. "Welcome- temporarily -to the land of the living." Forte tried to speak again, but was betrayed by his helplessness. "Don't worry, you don't need to talk. Soon you won't need to do much of anything." Wily frowned as he turned back to the other robot, dark scowl on his narrow chin. "I should have known better than to trust anything connected with those shadow slinkers. It's because of Blues it came to this." He harshly tightened a cord into the blonde creature and Forte's eyelashes flickered slightly as it began to strip the metal. "Because Blues couldn't see my plan. Because Blues infected the Robot Masters with his belligerence, because he drew Shadow into his path." Wily seethed, knotted hands having surprising strength as he ranted between gritted and rotting teeth. "And Shadow drew up the plans for you and I didn't see it. I didn't see that you were just another device developed between the two of them just to ruin my plans all the more." Forte managed an audible breath. He had never known he wasn't designed by the doctor.  
"But," he turned back to the purple marked bioroid, manic grin on his face giving him a wild and mindless air of living about him- the presence of self-destruction, "it doesn't matter now. Because soon I'll be rid of one problem. And then the world will be mine. And Thomas and Rock and Blues and anyone else that dared to stand in my way will no longer be a threat!" He cackled with such insanity, Forte was certain that he'd be reduced to a quivering wreck of coughs. But the tiny old man held on and he stumbled slightly, leaning in close to Forte. The robot tried to move his head away, able to smell the stink of creeping death over his crumbling skin, as wide dark eyes glazed at him.  
"It will all be over soon. And then, after all these long years, I can rest." He put a strange contraption over Forte's face, covering from his eyes to his chin. "It will all be over in a moment." He heard the man whisper, panicking slightly, not knowing what was going on. There was a soft noise and Forte wondered idly if Wily was crying. "After so, so long.."  
Power surged in the fortress and a voiceless scream ran wild in the halls in droves. But no one heard it. No one noticed a thing. 


	3. Third: Successor

Walking Ghosts Third: Successor  
  
by Lady Virgo  
  
"The final moments of  
life crashes  
around your head  
It comes."  
  
///  
  
It was growing dark and Blues couldn't help but to fidget. He knew the winds were changing, and with the hopeless air it brought, he knew the world was about to be shaken until it's already splintering confidence would shatter. But he still stood and waited and watched, trying to find a weakness, trying to find a way to stop and protect.  
The ever vigilant guardian.  
It hadn't taken as much persuasion as he thought to bring Shadow to realize what was going on. Apparently the younger robot had done his own investigating and was already planning on his desertion. But he didn't tell him about Forte, he didn't have to. Just like Shadow didn't have to tell him about Quick.  
Because in each other's unyielding gaze, they knew. They were already lost.  
Shadow shouldered his bag, intent on gaining Blues' attention. It worked.  
"Ready?" He asked quietly, voice silent on the wind.  
With a final look, burning the imposing, great planes of Skull Fortress into his mind, Blues turned and began to walk off. "Let's go."  
  
////  
  
Magnet's death hit a lot harder than Flash ever would have thought. He figured everyone would be out celebrating, cheering, singing and spiting on the corpse. But the eerie silence that haunted the halls grew quieter, graver. He had expected Pharaoh to become unstable, flying off the handle at any little thing. He had expected raging, uncontrolled emotions, maybe even a tear every now and then. Maybe not to the extent Snake went through, but something at least similar.  
Instead the golden eyed robot grew quiet. The tears he cried over Magnet's body were the only ones he shed, and even those he hadn't shown to anyone. Just the traces of red eyes and tried stains on his cheeks were brave enough to betray his steel shell. He still carried on as he had been, just a little more withdrawn, the air about him seemed somehow wounded.  
It wasn't Pharaoh that had gotten unstable, Flash had realized once. It was the air around him that did. No one knew how to act around him. No one every really knew, even before everything had happened. Sometimes you couldn't do anything around him without getting some sort of disapproving look, sometimes he'd be more entertaining than the more theatrical Robot Masters. But his mood always changed on a dime and it was always a gamble to figure out what may or may not change it.  
Now, though, no one knew what he was thinking. Everyone left him alone, no one even spoke to him but they watched him warily. Because he was still, in their view, in charge. They turned to him when there were problems, they had grown expectant to him taking care of them, dealing with whatever it was that was causing a disturbance. But he didn't seem to do anything anymore. The Enforcers rarely acted, just stayed out of the way and the others felt afraid. Because, as much as they felt the Enforcers abused them just for entertainment, it was protection. From the world, from Wily, from each other... And now no one had anyone looking out for them.  
The Robot Masters were leaderless. And no one made a move to take up the reigns.  
  
///  
  
"I've finally finished."  
He could barely remember when the scientist had last spoken without prompting.  
"Its been completed. It just needs to be booted and then.."  
And then..  
He knew. It would be over.  
Dark, sunken eyes roved over his bowed shoulders. "I want a group formed as my witness. I want this to be a memory forever engraved into the world."  
And what better way to sear your mark into eternity than in something that couldn't die?  
Except, Pharaoh bit the inside of his lip, three of them had already..  
"This," Wily said quietly, "is my final order to you."  
Perhaps he knew that this would be his final accomplishment. Perhaps he knew that time would wrap its decaying tendrils around him the moment those lifeless eyes would snap open out of its unnatural sleep into an unnatural life.  
Or perhaps he knew, somehow, that this would be his abrupt ending.  
"What will this one be called, Wily-sama?" Pharaoh dared to ask, head bowed respectively.  
After a moment of silence, the subtle squeal of the chair indicated he had turned back to the computers. And he said into the screens: "Zero."  
  
///  
  
They looked surprise as Pharaoh came into the rec room, faint purpose in his eyes. Along with a vague look of resignation. Flash didn't like that mixture.  
"In half an hour," Pharaoh said, voice soft but not lacking in his authority, "Plant, Hard and Skull will form in front of Wily-sama's room. The four of us are to be witnesses to the activation of his newest robot."  
Hard frowned, moving the cigar from his thick lips. "All four of us? Isn't that a bit much? I mean, it's just an activation of one robot."  
Pharaoh looked at him with heavy eyes. If they knew just what sort of creature this was, they may have understood. A part of him even thought he was going overboard with all of them, but over the years he had learned to trust his instincts.  
"It will be the four of us." He said with an assuring voice. "And also, I'm putting Flash in charge of the Enforcers."  
He shot to his feet so fast his sunglasses slid half way down his nose, face going several shades of pale. "Wh-What?" Flash managed to stammer. The others looked equally shocked.  
"You're the new leader."  
Unaware, he shook his head. "No way." Pharaoh stayed silent, but watched him carefully. "I can't be leader! That's you're job!"  
"I'm unfit for it. So I'm passing the responsibility to you." He shot Flash a look that cut off another protest. "If I didn't think you could handle it, I wouldn't be saying this. But I have another responsibility that takes precedence over all of you. I need someone I can trust to take over. I know you'll be fine."  
There was a long silence and Flash flung his arms open. "You're crazy!" Plant, realizing the mood he was in, quickly ushered the other Enforcers out of the room. "I'm not doing it!"  
"You have to."  
"I won't!" He glared through the dark tint of his shades. Then, with his anger seeming to have dissolved, he spoke in a more reasonable tone. "Look, if there was only one time that I could ever be completely honest with you, this would be it." Something in Pharaoh's gaze made it seem he wasn't even registering what he was trying to say, but he continued nonetheless.  
"A long time ago, I was made to fight in the Second War. At that time, there was another guy that was made, too. He was pretty weak, all he had was speed, but people looked up to him. I didn't. I couldn't stand him, I didn't understand why everyone depended on him. When the Third Army was created, there was someone else that challenged him. He was strong, he was ruthless, he was merciless. All he cared about was himself, and that was fine. I could deal with it. In fact, his strength and determination excited me. I was happy following someone that was more than willing to control with fear and put that goody-two-shoes in his place. And after a while, some others came into the picture. And then came the Boss. Stronger, faster, he inspired loyalty either out of fear or respect. He didn't care about getting his hands dirty, but he didn't go looking for trouble either. I followed him because he was, out of the two, the more powerful one. But one day, he fell. Hard. And after that, everyone turned back to the second guy because they were afraid. He had shown his true power, not afraid to use another's feeling against them, all that mattered to him was coming out on top.  
"If I had stayed how I was, if I was like the others, I would've gone back, too. But, during the time I followed the Boss, I came to realize why people liked the pansy in the beginning. Because he took care of them, he was always helping them, never looking for trouble, but stopping it every chance he got. He worried so no one else would, and he smiled because it made everyone else smile. I never had anyone that stuck their neck out as much as the Boss did, and I realized that, because of my loyalty to him, he was just as loyal to me. It made me realize that all the other times, I was just a tool. But under him, I was someone that could be depended on.  
"I have someone I'm programmed to follow, but there was only one person I would ever acknowledge as 'Boss'. And it was never anyone but you. I'd follow you to the end of the world, Boss, because I know that you'd have my back every step of the way."  
Pharaoh let out a soft breath. It seemed everything that made up his 'old self' was sinking fast. "I know, Flash. I trust you, and I depend on you. You've always been the one I knew would accomplish any task no matter what. You've been a great friend and companion, and I'm honored that you feel that way towards me. So then you should understand what I'm doing." He placed a hand on Flash's shoulder. "Magnet's always run everything behind the curtain, but I've always considered you my right hand man. And because of that, I can entrust the Enforcers to you."  
"But-"  
"Flash." He said sternly, yet no force surfaced on his face. "When I took over, I made an oath to protect Wily-sama at all cost. I swore over Magnet's body that I would take care of him. I'll stay by his side to the end. That is what I was programmed to do."  
"Everything's changed, Pharaoh."  
"Things have. But you still stood next to me."  
Flash lowered his head, unable to say anything in response. Pharaoh squeezed his shoulder. "I know you'll take care of them. I trust you."  
Thus ended the first and last time the two would truly talk.  
  
///  
  
The three of them stood off to the side, uncertain with what they were suppose to do. Since the arrival of the Sixth Army the Enforcers had been witnesses to every robot activation after. Because of the number of robots in each army, it was understandable why all the Enforcers would be present. But four for one.. It seemed like overkill. But Pharaoh had insisted and they wouldn't argue with him.  
There was a reason for this, they knew. There was a reason for everything Pharaoh did. With that knowledge secured in their minds, they couldn't help but feel uneasy.  
But they stayed quiet, waiting in nervous patience as Dr. Wily worked in a possessed fervor. Pharaoh stood close by him, silent but watching sharply for any sign of the man struggling.  
They watched as the values moved on the various screens, studying the way they moved and stabilized. Simultaneously their attention was drawn when the old man paused to give one or two strained coughs, but eased back as he continued to work, as if it never happened.  
He didn't notice it at first, but as time wore on Pharaoh began to realize that Dr. Wily was murmuring to himself, gradually growing louder. He watched, uncertain, as the scientist's sanity slipped with each number fell into place.  
"This is it." It was barely above silent as Wily's knotted hand hovered over the final release. The tension increased almost to the point of being tangible. "This is the culmination of my life. All that I have worked for. All that my creations lead up to be." He seemed to lose focus, speaking quietly into the unforgiving gray of the computer panel.  
Pharaoh felt inclined to speak, but, unable to find suitable words, stayed a silent shadow at his master's side.  
Just as the robots thought the human had frozen- perhaps the creeping death had finally pounced, catching its defiant prey in the talons of rigor mortis before it became aware -there was a dark chuckle, growing to a level just below giggling and far beyond madness. Pharaoh watched as the final strains of sanity cut and fell into the darkness of lunacy.  
"Rise..." Wily commanded. "Rise..! Awaken! My child!"  
In the roar of his master's thin voice, green eyes snapped open, under the high screech of laughter was the whirl of lungs pumping slowly, becoming familiar with its workings. As the blonde reploid sat up, Wily's stability fled and he cried, alternating between madden laughter and tears of hopeless joy.  
The blonde hunched forward a bit, eyes struggling to focus upon his armored lap. Wily squealed with glee, obsessively happy with the results. His creation- already fully equipped -was finally activated. And everything was coming to an end.  
"Now, Zero," he commanded, "stand!"  
A pregnant moment and something seemed to war behind Zero's eyes. A low, rumbling noise echoed in the underground lab and it took a moment for Pharaoh to realize that it was coming out of Zero. The reploid turned his head slowly, glaring green eyes that glowed. And turned gold.  
In a flash of movement, he had a bone-snapping grip on Wily's arm, rearing the other one back and sinking gripping fingers into the doctor as the old man twisted. Something cracked and Wily collapsed, screaming as blood sloshed onto the floor.  
"Stop him!" Pharaoh shouted. "Kill him if you have to!"  
Their attacks barely even phased the mad reploid, twisting his arm back to plunge it back into the fragile body- intent to kill. Vines wrapped around his wrist, holding him back and he snarled through his bangs. Plant struggled to hold his ground, slowly being pulled forward towards the enraged Zero before Hard gripped at the vines, his girth barely able to keep him in place.  
Zero tore that vines apart, shooting towards the two, bloody hands open and ready to tear them to shreds. Skull slide between them, deploying his shield. The crackling energy repelled Zero and he let out a low howl of frustration. Behind him, Pharaoh gingerly picked up Wily and moved back towards the exit. He handed the unconscious human to Plant.  
"Take Wily-sama and leave! Hard, you go with him- cover him, take him to the nearest hospital. Quickly!"  
"But-" Plant stammered, "what about Zero? And Skull?"  
"I'll take care of it."  
"Pharaoh-"  
"GO!" He commanded. "We can't let him get to Wily-sama, no matter what!"  
The two ran off, clambering up the steps noisily. No doubt some of the others have been alerted to the noise, Pharaoh hopped they wouldn't come down to investigate. He didn't think he could protect them all.  
I just need to get rid of him, he thought. That's all that matters. He began to gather his energy, blood snapping in his veins as the chemicals built themselves up, conducting themselves into his hands, forming into a ball of heated plasma. Just a little longer...  
Skull cried out as Zero smashed his hand through his weakening barrier, grabbing the bioroid by the face and dangling him in the air.  
"Skull!" Pharaoh shouted and Zero turned to him with a smirk. Before he ripped Skull's arm off. "SKULL!"  
Skull looked at him, blood streaming down from his helmet as his face was slowly crushed from the strength of Zero's fingers, whimpering. "Pharaoh..." With as much effort as if Skull was made of tissue, Zero tore him in half, head exploding in his hand in a shower of electricity and gore. He turned to Pharaoh, under the splattered blood, a sadistically pleased smile sat upon his face.  
Shit, no.... no.... He gritted his teeth. That was my brother.... That was my brother... The plasma build up was starting to crack the armor around his hands. He couldn't take the chance that Zero was strong enough to withstand his most powerful attack. He'd be defenseless, not having enough time or strength to pull off another one. He had to stop him with this one.  
Crying out, all the pain and anguish of the past months rushed through him, Pharaoh swung his arms up, letting the blast burst through the reinforced ceiling of the lab, tears running unnoticed down his face. Zero looked up, snarling as metal began to fall recklessly around them, being crushed under huge sheets as they plunged in an uncompassionate rain. Pharaoh fell to his knees, body throbbing in pain yet blissfully numb, watching the wreckage, watching as his own life came to an end.  
Maggie.... he thought, before the room came down on him. 


	4. Final: Over

Walking Ghosts Final: Over  
  
by Lady Virgo  
  
"Your last wasted  
breath falls  
useless on the ground.  
Zero hour."  
  
///  
  
Being a doctor never could be easy. All that had taken that oath knew it, knew it in the long, sleepless nights of studying, the stress of trying to remember each body part and ailment, the pain and sickness of watching the first patient with exposed bones and guts quivering in the air. And most of all, watching as that first person that couldn't be saved, watching them die, watching as the trust they had put into modern medicine and those that practiced it was shattered and the light in their wretched eyes cracked and their souls escaped from their steaming wounds.  
Being a doctor tended to have more worse moments than better. And no matter how disciplined and trusted those that worked there were, some how information will always get out whenever someone of importance was hospitalized. And it always got worse when it was someone that had put the world in fear countless times.  
Every day for the passed two weeks there were mobs outside the hospital since someone had leaked that Dr. Albert Wily was being cared for, deep in critical condition. The doctors, nurses and aids were all verbally attacked and criticized for helping him, and all they had to defend themselves was the Hippocratic oath, as old as time and as flimsy a shield as any tablet that had long since crumbled to dust.  
The Japanese Self Defense Force was called, ground troops stationed around the hospital all hours of the day and around the outlying area, helicopters in the air, prepared to gas the crowds should they become too rowdy. What was left of the UN tried to get in Dr. Wily's so called captured, but the Japanese government wasn't having it.  
Why should we allow you to judge this man, they had argued, when he had killed only Japanese citizens? When no other country would come to our defense? When not even Russia would take any sort of responsibility when we were attacked by bioroids created by one of her own citizens and materials from her own harsh resources?  
This, they had declared, is a Japanese concern. And it shall be judged as such.  
Yet other nations still tried to gain some historical glory by flexing their muscle of 'good will'. South Africa, their medical expertise having grown into a vast array of fields over recent years, offered their skills. America, the last actual powerhouse, had deployed some of their Special Forces to help keep order in the country though, after the previous wars had drained her of her strength and vitality, her forces were no better than many second-rate countries. Some countries, those especially well supplied with raw resources, offered trades with Japan for a chance to vulture the old scientist's plans. The Defense Ministry thought it would be prudent to set guards and check points up around Skull Fortress. But after reports that Dr. Wily's Robot Masters and most, if not all, of his defenses were still running, they had decided that if any country wanted to attempt to sneak in to steal the data, they were more than welcome to try.  
There were cameras set up all along the old man's room, isolated from any of the other patients and all along the hall outside as well on the outside of the building. Two guards set up posts outside the door as well as on opposite entrances of the hall and patrolled extra heavily in a 50- meter radius of the room. Every precaution was set for protection. To protect the scientist, protect the doctors and nurses and to protect the world from what other madness Dr. Wily may have planned for them.  
  
///  
  
"You do understand why we must do this?" It wasn't a question.  
"Yes."  
The man on the view screen nodded. "Then we shall be over shortly to take your robots."  
"Of course." Thomas Light sighed. Albert, he thought bitterly, you never wanted our creations to cause these problems, to be mindless killers. Why did your morals twist so suddenly? You wanted your bioroids to create a better world. But what good was to come from this?  
And so now he was being forced to destroy his own hard-earned data and to give up his beautiful creations to be dismantled. His long-labored work, each one a precious piece of his life that he loved more than anything. It made his empty house a home. He didn't know what he'd do without them.  
The government would be over within a day to take his life away from him. And yet he was still sitting, delaying the preparations he had to make. As if he were waiting for a sign.  
His computer beeped at him and automatically opened the e-mail, displaying a message for him. Slowly he lumbered to it, curious when something began to upload onto his screen. Only one person would ever disregard putting up a download warning on their e-mails. And he only contacted the human under extreme duress.  
Scrolling through the information, Dr. Light picked up the phone wired throughout the house. "Rock. Roll. I need you two to meet me in my lab in an hour."  
If this wasn't a sign, he didn't know what was.  
  
///  
  
He'd been slipping in and out of consciousness for.. he didn't know how long now. He barely remembered anything when he was awake and only knew terror when he slept.  
He could feel time creeping on him, could see the bleached and polished grin as Death tapped his hourglass, fine green grains of sand running their tireless race. The grace of that colorless blade echoed everywhere, in every bend of light, in every slight curve, and he could see his strained face reflecting in it, growing older and more decayed the closer it came.  
Looking around the hospital room, his fevered mind fought against the thick cotton in his head. One final defense, that's all he had.  
Near his bed was a monitor. The fools should have known better than to leave a computer of any sort within his grasp. It was all he needed for this, his last desperate measure. Shoving away the dizziness as he clamored for the keyboard, he was determined not to go down so easily. He would not go quietly into the darkness of the forgotten. The world would have to force him into its endless winding catacombs of hell.  
When he died, every creature in the world would know. Because every creature will bow down to his greatness.  
Just as they were created to do...  
  
///  
  
It had to be a dream. There was no way it could be anything else. It just seemed too surreal, too perfect. Quick barely remembered why he was here. He /had/ been going down to the kitchen. To get a couple of drinks for some of the guys in the recroom, he vaguely recalled. In fact, the bottles were still cool under his palms.  
But, for some reason, he was called out here. 'Here' being the long corridor in Dr. Wily's uber secret and uber hidden underground laboratory. And, oddly enough, he wasn't the only one here. Every Robot Master was here with him, each one with the same empty curiosity on their face. Quick attempted to talk to the nearest one- Yamato -but all he could seem to do was open his mouth slightly.  
Scanning over the familiar faces, something whispered in the back of his mind. He twitched his head a little, but otherwise ignored the tickling. He ticked off the names of the robots in his head. It seemed an odd thing to do at that particular moment because something told him everyone was there. Yet, he did, nonetheless.  
There's Cut, and Tengu. Shade, Burner, Elec, Frog. Sword, Charge, Napalm, Fire, Heat, Ice-  
The doors at the end of the hall slammed shut. No one jumped.  
-Bright, Cloud, Ring, Wood-  
The lights dimmed, flickered, then cut. Almost immediately the back- up lights came on. Their silhouettes were outlined in a washed out green light.  
-Hard, Junk, Dive, Guts, Stone-  
The large double doors to the lab whisked open with the silence of an oppressive breeze. As one, the Robot Masters turned to it.  
The light here, Quick found himself idly thinking, is brighter. Part of his mind was still cataloguing his brethren, another part was still itching from something that wanted his attention.  
-Bubble, Slash, Plant-  
The world was washed semi-monochromatic. The smooth planes were painted a soft white, overlaying the tapered green. But the light still couldn't wash out the dark of the shadows.  
The Robot Masters started marching in their uniform silence into the room.  
-Turbo, Knight, Centaur-  
Couldn't wash out..  
They were positioning themselves in precise intervals. As if they had been waiting their entire lives to do this.  
-Gyro, Tomahawk-  
..the shadows..  
Shadows...  
Every face looked up expectantly, a monstrosity of a device descending from the ceiling.  
Shadow isn't here.  
Quick's eyes snapped wide. And the prodding in the back of his mind exploded into a scene he could almost touch.  
/we are all in great danger in the fortress/  
He forced his feet to keep from moving. The echoed memory of 'danger' thrummed in his head, prodding his sluggish instincts back into gear.  
/you are not safe, no one is/  
Bodies pushed against him, shoving as they patiently moved into position.  
/leave the fortress/  
"Leave.." He said quietly, remembering the gleam of chips resting on the off-white of paper. No, they shouldn't be doing this.. It was a struggle to keep his body planted.  
He tried to say something as the last bioroid found their place, ranks perfect. There were gaps, glaringly visible even with larger, bulkier frames trying to cover them up. Quick's body was trembling from exertion, mind a two way battle between what he knew he had to do and what he couldn't do.  
For a long moment there was no movement, no sound. The world had stood still, balancing on the end of a wavering pin. And then, in perfect unison, all heads turned to him. And the pin stilled.  
Quick's eyes, glowing eerily in the light, roved over the other robots. And then lifted to the machine that hung from the ceiling, lacing tubes suspended around it like a gleaming spider upon its web of bones. And yet, when he looked at it, he found it.. beautiful...  
His mind didn't notice as he approached closer, taking up the empty spot that seemed to complete a loneliness that had never before existed.  
Along with the other Robot Masters, he watched the tendrils of the web quiver and detach. They all looked upon it like a Messiah they had long awaited, anxious to follow its every order.  
They dropped from the ceiling in groups, long needles in each that invaded every upturned eye, wide and unblinking. The sharp ends dug through the soft gel of the pupils, fluids spilling down faces and sloshing messily to the floor. The needles bypassed the mechanics, piercing into the frontal lobe and injecting its command into it and their minds clung to it greedily. Not a body moved, not a sound made.  
As the poison continued to feed, the doors slammed closed. And not a soul noticed.  
  
///  
  
"What's the situation with the doctor?"  
"Sir," the young officer saluted smartly, snapping back to attention as he was acknowledged, "he's been restrained, sir."  
"Good. Have you tracked down what he was doing?"  
"No, sir. We haven't, yet."  
"If you don't mind me asking, sir." The officer said, "But why are we taking such precautions? I mean, he's just an old man, after all."  
With a steady gaze that knew more wisdom than the young man ever would, the gruff reply came: "Because he is a genius. Any bit of technology that he can utilize is our enemy. Who knows what sort of damage he may have caused, even from a hospital monitoring unit." He shook his head. "No, we have to find out what he was doing, or attempting to do. If it would cause any danger to our citizens, we have to know how we can protect them."  
Down the hall, an old man woke into a dream. Bound to his bed, he had no choice but to allow their drugs to drown his mind in petty fog. Somewhere inside he was giggling, but he wasn't sure how, or if it somehow reached the world outside.  
It is done, his self said. You have won, there is no way the world can defeat you, now. All they need is time. You deserved all the time the universe could have offered, you deserved to slip into the stream of eternity, but they can do that for you. They who do not age, who cannot die.  
Let the world feel the rage that you have contained for years too numerous to count. Let the lambs be slaughtered before their true masters.  
He cackled, lashed to the blankets, and the shadows around him cackled with him. The world was in his hands now. Let it darken and die and turn to ash in his thick knuckled fingers.  
The cameras, however, merely captured the sunken visage falling gently to one side, saliva dripping off the edge of an upturned lip as he sighed blissfully.  
  
///  
  
"-so be expecting more heavy rains with the upcoming weekend. Highs and lows will remain steady through Saturday and Sunday, but next Mondays temperatures are expected to drop. That's the weather, back to the news."  
"Hm, seems we're getting more rain so far this year than last. Be sure to keep an eye on your children over the weekend, you know how they love to play in the rain.  
"Police today had captured the arsonist threatening the markets in the Kanagawa district. They have the suspect in custody but are not releasing his name to the press and- hold on a moment, we seem to be getting an important bulletin. ...I-I, oh my God. E-Everyone, please listen carefully. I have just bee informed that Japan is in the highest stage of alert. Skull Fortress, hideout of Dr. Albert Wily and his Robot Masters, had been reported to have very little activity in the passed two days. However, no more than twenty minutes ago, the Robot Masters had overrun the barricades. They've spread out, all outlying regions are being evacuated. The Japanese Self Defense Force is doing what they can to hold back the attack, but... Everyone is advised to stay indoors. They are all extremely dangerous. We shall being reporting the details as they come." Hands shuffled papers and shook. "Everyone, please be careful.."  
  
///  
  
Disgusting.  
It was the only fitting word to come to mind as he surveyed the ruins of Skull Fortress. He had hacked into the hospital monitoring station, tracing the flow of activity. He was far better at guessing the crippled mad man's movements, he knew exactly what he was after. Because he had read up on Wily's most secret files.  
After Wily inputted the virus into all the Robot Masters, they went insane. Most went into a mindless blood rage, attacking and killing each other. The weak didn't stand a chance, blood and parts were strewn across the wreckage that once were corridors. Still the Robot Masters' thirst wasn't sated and they began to terrorize and kill humans. A few had already been taken down by the military, frightened mobs picking off the weaker ones as they wandered alone.  
It was Wily's final, desperate stab at the world that had forsaken him. And it disgusted Blues to no end.  
Blues and Shadow had separated when the unsuspected attack blew out from the fortress a week earlier. They had helped to stop some of the more dangerous Robot Masters, though their attempts were more to slow them down than to kill them. The younger robot wasn't too sure about that idea, but Blues had explained that they are still who they are. Wily's virus just overrode their senses and it was their duty to keep them from harming others and keeping them from harm's way until a cure was found.  
Which was what caused the split. Blues had opted to head back to what was left of Wily's lab and try to find a counter agent to the virus while Shadow tried to coordinate a containment unit from behind the scenes. He chose as his unit the only approved source they could get: Dr. Light.  
But that new creation of Wily's still bothered him. It hadn't appeared anywhere and he knew the power of it could easily wipe out any thing in it's path, be it human or bioroid.  
"I know you're still around here, somewhere." He muttered, picking through the rubble of the once impressively constructed lab. "I know you won't go down so easily." Under his helmet, Blues wrinkled his nose, stepping over one of Pharaoh's cracked and burnt hands, blown off from his arm by the strength of his attack. He had found his body earlier and buried it, along with the bits of Skull.  
He really had no idea what he'd do once he found this reploid. All he knew was he needed to stop him somehow from hurting anyone else.  
The collapsed ceiling proved to be an unreliable carpet as Blues uneasily wobbled on it for the umpteenth time. He scanned the area coolly, as if it were a clearing he was checking for traps. Standing on the highest mound, he glared at his feet- or rather, at the creature he knew resting under his feet.  
He knew how this monster worked, he knew what mind it ran off of and remembering that fact set his blood on fire. He wanted to beat it, he wanted to kill it. He wanted to take back the precious memories he knew were laying dormant, somewhere inside and keep them for his own.  
But they were no longer Forte's, he knew. Everything that made up the light-haired bioroid was gone. His mind was chopped up and bits of it discarded, others modified and all of it bastardized until it was no longer the one he had come to love.  
Like a buffet, Blues thought ironically. Expect he's destroying things that have the ability to think and feel. Though we're not organic, we're more alive than some of the humans...  
For a long while the prototype wasn't sure what he should do. He knew Forte's body was just carelessly discarded somewhere, but had still not been found. Though he desperately wanted to 'put it to rest', so to speak, he didn't think this reploid would stay unconscious for too much longer.  
A random thought fell into his head and he dwelled on it for a moment. The more he turned it over in his head, the more problems he saw in it. But the more he was becoming to be attached to the thought. It was foolish, it was dangerous. And he'd get an earful when Shadow found out. The thought made him grin.  
Working quickly, he was mildly surprised to find the equipment was still in rather decent shape, given the cave in and the rampant wanderings of unsupervised Robot Masters. He was cautious as he unearthed the blond reploid, shutting him down for the time being. As Blues dragged the reploid to the lab table and hooked him up to the machines, he couldn't help but wonder how it would look to see Forte watching him through that face. In a way, he supposed, they did resemble each other. The sharp face and slim eyes. This new creation wasn't as pale as Forte, but his fingers were still slender and powerful and when his blonde bangs fell messily over his forehead, it seemed Blues could actually pretend that this was the cobra-crested bioroid he had missed for so long.  
He smiled bittersweet as he finished plugging the in the cords into the both of them. Reaching up, he pulled off his visored helmet, holding the final headpiece in his hands.  
"It must be frightening." Blues murmured to himself. "Trapped in a strange body and knowing only destruction and violence." A gloved hand gave into temptation, running through the cascading hair. "You won't be alone. I'll protect you from the world." For once, he didn't care that his hands were trembling and emotion fell from his eyes and dripped down his cheeks. For once, he truly felt that he was doing the right thing. And he never felt freedom as wonderful as he did that moment. "Just like I had always wanted to."  
He slipped the headpiece on and, with only a moment of groping, found the switch to transfer his mind into Zero's. To rejoin his forgotten lover beyond this life.  
  
///  
  
The shadows crawled over him, flooding over the pristine white of the sheets and wriggled over the writhing length of his body. They slide over his skin and in through his ears, dancing over his brain and he could feel them pulling at him, laughing and cackling and snipping away at his head.  
He couldn't stay here. He couldn't be here. The narcotics that doctors had given him only furthered his silent hysteria, the straps on his limbs seemed to tighten and their beady holes glared at him, mocking him, daring him to another of his technomancy spells again.  
But he couldn't move, he could barely breath and he feared. He feared for his life and his future, he feared the creature he knew buried somewhere under his crushed fortress. And he feared that, even in his most desperate stab at the heart of the world, his creatures still wouldn't be able to fulfill his destiny.  
Bathed in a cold sweat, he felt his heart thumping through every artery in his body, eyes wild and wide and searching every crevice in this shadow infested room. They were here, he knew it. He could feel their false hearts thrumming with his, he could taste their metallic scent and heard the rasp of their manmade lungs.  
Wherewherewherewherewherewhe-  
There was a glint in the corner, one that was never there before, near the ceiling. Fearfully he gazed at it, trying to make out the harsh curves and layered spikes of the armor. The robot smiled maliciously at him, teeth all fangs before, it seemed so unnaturally slow, he let his claws dig out of the wall, falling onto the old man.  
There were no screams that infested the midnight halls and somehow no one seemed to notice the blood that leaked slowly out from under the door until it had dried on the floor and the walls. The human's remains were locked in an iron box and the news across the world would never know the full extent of the murder, just that his mad genius was finally put to rest. 


End file.
